Schmeling had one more appointment before leaving New York, one that was as important to him as his reunions with Louis and Farley. This one, with a reporter present, was in a cemetery in Queens-with Joe Jacobs. "Joe, here is a friend of yours!" the elderly Jewish caretaker said as Schmeling stood by Jacobs's headstone. "It's Max Schmeling! He didn't forget you." That was certainly true, for Schmeling continued to invoke their association often. So it was that even posthumously, Jacobs continued to represent-and to sanitize-him. But Yussel could do only so much. After what Gayle Talbot of the Associated Press called his "crowning rejection"-he was discouraged from visiting the training camps where Rocky Marciano and Ezzard Charles were preparing for their championship fight-Schmeling quietly left the United States. He'd probably never return, Talbot theorized. "The Black Uhlan's return to the scene of his fistic triumphs must have been a disheartening experience, even for a man who never was noted for his delicate sensibilities," wrote Talbot, who'd been following Schmeling for nearly two decades. "Before he left he fully realized the trip had been a mistake, that he could not roll back the years."

But as well as he knew Schmeling, Talbot underestimated his determination; six years later he was indeed back, and back on the case. In October 1960 the American television program This Is Your Life This Is Your Life profiled Louis, reuniting him with Roxborough, Black, and Braddock, among others, along with his siblings, children, and third wife, whom he'd wed after a short-lived second marriage a few years earlier. When his turn came, Schmeling bounded onto the stage to embrace Louis, almost knocking over the program's host, Ralph Edwards, in the process. "What about this fellow?" Edwards asked him. A beaming Schmeling surveyed Louis, top to bottom. "Well, Joe Louis is a great friend, and the biggest sportsman, the finest sportsman I ever met," he said. The program was striking for the dignity with which it portrayed Louis, alluding very gently to his tax problems, saying nothing about the most recent and degrading stage of his descent: professional wrestling. By this point, he had also begun taking drugs. "You have lived your life in honor with respect for your fellow man and for God, with great courage and with a great heart," Edwards told him. profiled Louis, reuniting him with Roxborough, Black, and Braddock, among others, along with his siblings, children, and third wife, whom he'd wed after a short-lived second marriage a few years earlier. When his turn came, Schmeling bounded onto the stage to embrace Louis, almost knocking over the program's host, Ralph Edwards, in the process. "What about this fellow?" Edwards asked him. A beaming Schmeling surveyed Louis, top to bottom. "Well, Joe Louis is a great friend, and the biggest sportsman, the finest sportsman I ever met," he said. The program was striking for the dignity with which it portrayed Louis, alluding very gently to his tax problems, saying nothing about the most recent and degrading stage of his descent: professional wrestling. By this point, he had also begun taking drugs. "You have lived your life in honor with respect for your fellow man and for God, with great courage and with a great heart," Edwards told him.* But the show was also a milestone for Schmeling: it was his first appearance on American television, and he had been received courteously, uncritically. In the United States as well as in Germany, he was starting to become accepted. But the show was also a milestone for Schmeling: it was his first appearance on American television, and he had been received courteously, uncritically. In the United States as well as in Germany, he was starting to become accepted.

More skeptical observers still spotted a man in denial. "There is an aura of unreality about Max Schmeling," one New York sportswriter wrote during this visit. "Somehow it's a feeling he cultivates, begging belief that there was no Nazi Germany, no war, no blood, nothing but a time when men spent themselves gloriously only in the square arena of boxing." This antipathy resurfaced a year later, when Schmeling arrived in heavily Jewish South Florida for the third Floyd Patterson-Ingemar Johansson heavyweight title fight. "Max Schmeling invaded Miami Beach, which took some courage, although Max, like sixty-seven million other Germans, was never a Nazi," Roger Kahn wrote in the Herald Tribune. Herald Tribune. "As I get the picture, there were never more than five or six Nazis in Germany, but, of course, they worked very hard." At the same time, old antagonists like Joe Williams of the "As I get the picture, there were never more than five or six Nazis in Germany, but, of course, they worked very hard." At the same time, old antagonists like Joe Williams of the World-Telegram World-Telegram had to concede that Schmeling was never the Nazi monster he had portrayed him to be. had to concede that Schmeling was never the Nazi monster he had portrayed him to be.

Though Louis owed Mike Jacobs a fortune, Jacobs, who had a stroke shortly after the war, never pressed the point. "He's done enough for me," he told associates. But the IRS hounded Louis, and as it did, Louis's problems multiplied. Gradually he slid into mental illness, convinced that the Mafia or other dark forces were out to kill him. In 1970 he was briefly committed. Medication made him functional enough to become a $50,000-a-year greeter at Caesars Palace, paid to shake hands with the thousands who still idolized him. But to a younger generation, black and white, Louis was beyond pathetic: he was irrelevant, a relic, superseded by all those younger, hipper black athletes whose paths he paved. Confident, combative, outlandish Muhammad Ali was now their model of a boxer and a black man. Ali only made things worse, dismissing Louis as an "Uncle Tom."* What Ali did do was save boxing, at least for a time. But when he retired, the sport resumed its long downward slide. Changing tastes, the growing popularity of other sports, the multiplicity of competing titles, the role of television in killing off fight clubs, corruption, and even American prosperity-"There's no more tough guys around, not enough slums," the owner of the New York landmark Stillman's Gym lamented. "The golden age of prizefighting was the age of bad food, bad air, bad sanitation, and no sunlight"-reduced boxing to a secondary sport, making Louis appear even more remote and inconsequential. What Ali did do was save boxing, at least for a time. But when he retired, the sport resumed its long downward slide. Changing tastes, the growing popularity of other sports, the multiplicity of competing titles, the role of television in killing off fight clubs, corruption, and even American prosperity-"There's no more tough guys around, not enough slums," the owner of the New York landmark Stillman's Gym lamented. "The golden age of prizefighting was the age of bad food, bad air, bad sanitation, and no sunlight"-reduced boxing to a secondary sport, making Louis appear even more remote and inconsequential.

After heart surgery in 1977, Louis had a stroke, which left him paralyzed. The following year, Caesars Palace staged a tribute to him. Two thousand people, Schmeling among them, together watched footage of the 1938 fight. Then, as the theme song from Rocky Rocky blared over the public address system, Frank Sinatra wheeled Louis into the gigantic hall. It was a night in which sentimentality was outdone by Vegas-style vulgarity; people squirmed as Ali recounted how he'd been warned not to wind up "like poor Joe Louis," how Louis was broke because he'd surrounded himself with "white people" and "Jews," and how, while Ali had spoken out on social issues, Louis had remained silent. Then, Howard Cosell droned on so endlessly that Paul Anka never got to sing the special version of "My Way" he'd prepared for Louis. "No one said it out loud," wrote Michael Katz of blared over the public address system, Frank Sinatra wheeled Louis into the gigantic hall. It was a night in which sentimentality was outdone by Vegas-style vulgarity; people squirmed as Ali recounted how he'd been warned not to wind up "like poor Joe Louis," how Louis was broke because he'd surrounded himself with "white people" and "Jews," and how, while Ali had spoken out on social issues, Louis had remained silent. Then, Howard Cosell droned on so endlessly that Paul Anka never got to sing the special version of "My Way" he'd prepared for Louis. "No one said it out loud," wrote Michael Katz of The New York Times, The New York Times, "but this was a farewell testimonial to ... one of the greatest athletes in history and one of this country's greatest heroes." "but this was a farewell testimonial to ... one of the greatest athletes in history and one of this country's greatest heroes."

That was about right. Louis died of a heart attack on April 12, 1981, at the age of sixty-six. One of those babies named for him, the Rev. Jesse Louis Jackson, gave the eulogy at Arlington National Cemetery; a rabbi, who'd been a boy in Vienna at the time of the second fight, recalled how Louis's victory gave new hope to the city's Jews. "For that alone, Joe Louis deserves to be blessed," he said. Schmeling later claimed to have paid for Louis's private funeral, a point that Louis's lawyer later disputed. But dying afforded only a brief respite to Louis's battered reputation. He slid further into oblivion, commemorated only in down-at-the-heels black Detroit, which named an arena after him and honored him with a statue-in the form of a giant fist-nearby. Only for those who had lived through his glory years did he remain an icon. When Martin Luther King, Jr., was shot, more than one middle-aged African American told a reporter on the streets of Chicago that it was his saddest day since Schmeling had beaten Louis. To mark Nelson Mandela's birthday one year, President Clinton-knowing how much Mandela loved boxing and that he had even listened to a recording of the second Louis-Schmeling fight while in prison-presented him with an unused ticket to that fight.

But as Louis's star faded, Schmeling's grew ever brighter, in part because he became the author of his own story. He wrote three autobiographies, in 1956,1967, and 1977. Though they became increasingly elaborate, and though eminent historians like Joachim Fest assisted him, all were filled with omissions and inaccuracies. In the longest and most ambitious, Erinnerungen Erinnerungen ["Reminiscences"], even the date of his own wedding is wrong. ["Reminiscences"], even the date of his own wedding is wrong.* But they stood, and took on increasing credibility, because few Germans were sufficiently skeptical, energetic, or courageous to scrutinize them. And those few got no help from Schmeling; for decades he turned aside all scholarly inquiries, including multiple attempts in the 1970s by the greatest authorities on sports in the Third Reich, Professors Hajo Bernett and Hans Joachim Teichler. "Mr. Schmeling doesn't answer such questions any longer," they were informed on postcards from his office at Coca-Cola-if they heard back at all. Visitors to Schmeling's estate could not get past the gate; instead, they were shunted off to one of his friends, who plied them with autographed pictures and assured them that interviews were quite impossible. In fact, Schmeling talked from time to time to a few friendly journalists, who could be counted upon never to stray from the same predictable, innocuous, and reverential script. And so it was that long after West German, and then German, culture had come to grips with its behavior during the Third Reich, Schmeling held himself aloof. Asked once if he had any regrets, Schmeling said no: he would do everything again in exactly the same way. But they stood, and took on increasing credibility, because few Germans were sufficiently skeptical, energetic, or courageous to scrutinize them. And those few got no help from Schmeling; for decades he turned aside all scholarly inquiries, including multiple attempts in the 1970s by the greatest authorities on sports in the Third Reich, Professors Hajo Bernett and Hans Joachim Teichler. "Mr. Schmeling doesn't answer such questions any longer," they were informed on postcards from his office at Coca-Cola-if they heard back at all. Visitors to Schmeling's estate could not get past the gate; instead, they were shunted off to one of his friends, who plied them with autographed pictures and assured them that interviews were quite impossible. In fact, Schmeling talked from time to time to a few friendly journalists, who could be counted upon never to stray from the same predictable, innocuous, and reverential script. And so it was that long after West German, and then German, culture had come to grips with its behavior during the Third Reich, Schmeling held himself aloof. Asked once if he had any regrets, Schmeling said no: he would do everything again in exactly the same way.

Anny Ondra died in 1987; the Schmelings never had any children. But Schmeling remained vital and vigorous. His extraordinary longevity-in part a tribute to his lifelong physical discipline-only burnished his reputation further. The man who was malleable enough to fit into Weimar Germany and the Third Reich with equal ease now became an exemplar of West Germany, of its economic miracle and its fledgling democracy. He was a constant presence on German television, bestowing awards on young athletes. At one point he was named the German sportsman of the century. His image, one observer later wrote, was that of a squeaky-clean Sunday school boy. Apart from the immunity old age generally confers, Schmeling had outlived anyone who knew any better. His legend grew further when, at a tribute in Las Vegas in 1989, the owner of the Sands Hotel, Henri Lewin, offered a story about Schmeling no one had previously known: Lewin was one of those two Jewish boys Schmeling had sheltered on Kristallnacht. The story quickly became a staple in Schmeling's biography, right behind the Louis fights. From the cartoonlike Nazi he'd been in prewar America, he became a cartoon figure of a different sort: a righteous Gentile. There were even rumors that a tree had been planted for him at Yad Vashem, the Holocaust memorial in Jerusalem.

The story about the Lewin brothers, along with tales of his loyalty to Joe Jacobs, earned a prominent place in the obituaries when-this time, for real-Max Schmeling died, on February 2, 2005, seven months shy of his hundredth birthday. By the time his death was announced, he had already been buried, with only a dozen or so friends present, thus affording him more of the privacy he had always cherished. It did not matter where the tributes appeared, whether in Berlin or London or New York: now, there was only one verdict on Schmeling, and it was almost uniformly positive. "The embodiment of the decent German who wouldn't be co-opted by anyone for anything," wrote the Frankfurter Allgemeine. Frankfurter Allgemeine. "Our last hero is dead, our only star," declared "Our last hero is dead, our only star," declared Welt am Sonntag. Welt am Sonntag. Such comments prompted a caveat from the left-wing Such comments prompted a caveat from the left-wing Die Tageszeitung, Die Tageszeitung, which described Schmeling as "a simple, modest, somewhat naive and friendly man who wanted to please everyone-and, if it had to be, even the Nazis." The German chancellor, Gerhard Schroder, seemed to acknowledge as much in his own carefully phrased statement. Like nearly everyone else, he saluted Schmeling's athletic proficiency, fairness, and modesty, but he steered altogether clear of politics and said nothing of Schmeling's behavior during the Third Reich. which described Schmeling as "a simple, modest, somewhat naive and friendly man who wanted to please everyone-and, if it had to be, even the Nazis." The German chancellor, Gerhard Schroder, seemed to acknowledge as much in his own carefully phrased statement. Like nearly everyone else, he saluted Schmeling's athletic proficiency, fairness, and modesty, but he steered altogether clear of politics and said nothing of Schmeling's behavior during the Third Reich.

Though one could scarcely have imagined it at the time, Max Schmeling picked himself off the canvas on the night of June 22,1938, and lived another sixty-seven years. But no matter how successful or beloved he turned out to be, and no matter how impoverished, enfeebled, or ignored Louis became, Schmeling stuck by him, repeatedly flying halfway around the world to appear with him, greeting him like a lost brother, praising him lavishly. And it all made perfect sense. His triumph over Louis represented the capstone of his career. His loss to Louis spared him greater infamy, and gave him immortality. Louis represented his youth. He also represented his link to America, the nation he had always loved, if only in his own utilitarian way. Most of all, it was Louis who provided Schmeling with what he coveted most: expiation. If der braune Bomber, der braune Bomber, the simple and decent man whom more Americans, black and white, loved more than just about any other man in his generation, harbored no hard feelings toward him, how could anyone else? So of course Max Schmeling honored Joe Louis when he lived, and once Louis died, Schmeling embraced him even more tenaciously, until he, too, passed on. "I didn't only like him," he once said. "I loved him." the simple and decent man whom more Americans, black and white, loved more than just about any other man in his generation, harbored no hard feelings toward him, how could anyone else? So of course Max Schmeling honored Joe Louis when he lived, and once Louis died, Schmeling embraced him even more tenaciously, until he, too, passed on. "I didn't only like him," he once said. "I loved him."

* According to one eyewitness, the camp commandant introduced Schmeling as a living legend who had "destroyed the nigger Louis" only to lose two years later on a foul. He had served his Fatherland faithfully, the commandant went on, and was now volunteering his services to the Fuhrer when he could have spent his furlough at a spa. According to one eyewitness, the camp commandant introduced Schmeling as a living legend who had "destroyed the nigger Louis" only to lose two years later on a foul. He had served his Fatherland faithfully, the commandant went on, and was now volunteering his services to the Fuhrer when he could have spent his furlough at a spa.* Schmeling may have distanced himself from Goring, but Goring still stuck by Schmeling. His lawyer at Nuremberg recalled coming to the prison in January 1946 to find Goring arguing animatedly over the Louis-Schmeling fight with one of his American guards. "Goring became very animated, jumped up and practically demonstrated how the blow of the Brown Bomber went into Schmeling's kidneys," he wrote. "He said this was clearly not fair!" The debate proceeded good-naturedly for a while, "and eventually Goring was satisfied when the Americans confirmed for him that Schmeling had been the technically superior and fair fighter while Louis's victory had been brought about mainly by the primeval nature of his race." Schmeling may have distanced himself from Goring, but Goring still stuck by Schmeling. His lawyer at Nuremberg recalled coming to the prison in January 1946 to find Goring arguing animatedly over the Louis-Schmeling fight with one of his American guards. "Goring became very animated, jumped up and practically demonstrated how the blow of the Brown Bomber went into Schmeling's kidneys," he wrote. "He said this was clearly not fair!" The debate proceeded good-naturedly for a while, "and eventually Goring was satisfied when the Americans confirmed for him that Schmeling had been the technically superior and fair fighter while Louis's victory had been brought about mainly by the primeval nature of his race."* Despite his exemplary intentions, twice during the show Edwards called Louis "boy." Despite his exemplary intentions, twice during the show Edwards called Louis "boy."* Later, they patched things up, and Ali played straight man to another of Louis's famous lines. "Joe, you really think you coulda whipped me?" Ali once asked him. "When I had the title, I went on what they called a bum-of-the-month tour," Louis replied. "You mean I'm a bum?" Ali interjected. "You woulda been on the tour," said Louis. Later, they patched things up, and Ali played straight man to another of Louis's famous lines. "Joe, you really think you coulda whipped me?" Ali once asked him. "When I had the title, I went on what they called a bum-of-the-month tour," Louis replied. "You mean I'm a bum?" Ali interjected. "You woulda been on the tour," said Louis.* Schmeling's rendition of the second fight-in seven pages-is typical, and instructive. He wrote that the experts favored Louis "almost unanimously"; that it was only the second fight to produce a million-dollar gate; that Yankee Stadium was sold out; that his reception there had been unremittingly hostile; that Doc Casey had been too scared by the anti-Nazi fervor to be his second that night; that the German ambassador pushed him to charge Louis with a foul (a move he says he personally opposed); that Louis attempted to visit him at the hospital, but that Machon and Jacobs had turned him away; that he did not hear from Hitler after the fight; and that his name "simply disappeared" from the German press afterward. Every one of these claims is untrue. Schmeling's rendition of the second fight-in seven pages-is typical, and instructive. He wrote that the experts favored Louis "almost unanimously"; that it was only the second fight to produce a million-dollar gate; that Yankee Stadium was sold out; that his reception there had been unremittingly hostile; that Doc Casey had been too scared by the anti-Nazi fervor to be his second that night; that the German ambassador pushed him to charge Louis with a foul (a move he says he personally opposed); that Louis attempted to visit him at the hospital, but that Machon and Jacobs had turned him away; that he did not hear from Hitler after the fight; and that his name "simply disappeared" from the German press afterward. Every one of these claims is untrue.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTSI CAN THINK OF few greater favors someone can bestow than nurturing another person's labor of love. And over the past seven years, this book had lots of nurturing, and nurturers.First, there were those who helped in the research. I especially want to thank Mitch Abramson, Elizabeth Dribben, Ruth Ben-Ghiat, Leslie Friedman, Leah Garchick, Stephanie Goldberg, Rick Hornung, Kenneth Janken, Arnold Kaplan, LeeAnna Keith, Dave Kelly of the Library of Congress, Martin Krauss, William Lin, Ken Maley, Dan Morgenstern of the Institute of Jazz Studies at Rutgers University, Eddy Portnoy, Jonathan Shenfield, Karol Stein, Studs Terkel, Paul Tilzey, Mike Welch, Esther Wilder, and Chris Willis. I'm also indebted to the extraordinary boxing mavens who gave generously of their time, insight, and materials, particularly the incomparable Hank Kaplan, Mike DeLisa, and Mike Silver.In all of my explorations, the New York Public Library was the mother ship. It is one of mankind's towering achievements. David Smith of the library staff took great interest in my work and helped me more than I can say. Warren Platt also pitched in. Though I've never met them, I'm much indebted to the folks in the Interlibrary Loan program there, particularly Jacqueline Willoughby and Terry Kirchner. The morgue of my alma mater, The New York Times, The New York Times, is another inspiring institution, also built up and run by generations of unsung heroes. It is an irreplaceable, and endangered, resource; long may it exist, even in the age of Nexis and ProQuest! I want to thank Jeff Roth and Lou Ferrer there for their gracious and knowledgeable help. is another inspiring institution, also built up and run by generations of unsung heroes. It is an irreplaceable, and endangered, resource; long may it exist, even in the age of Nexis and ProQuest! I want to thank Jeff Roth and Lou Ferrer there for their gracious and knowledgeable help.Finding, translating, and analyzing the German materials was a huge undertaking, and I very much appreciate the efforts of Rick Minnich, Bernard Bindzus, Mark Landsman, and Stefan Knerrich. Thanks, too, go to those who read the manuscript at various stages, usually when this was an even more considerable undertaking than it eventually became: Richard Bernstein, Eric Fettmann, Andrew Margolick, Gertrude Margolick, Joe Margolick, Fred Morton, and Ray Robinson. Their constructive criticism improved the book and spared me from making all sorts of embarrassing mistakes.Throughout a long period of gestation, I was blessed with the perfect work environment, one that gave me time, flexibility, and security, and I'm deeply grateful to Graydon Carter, Doug Stumpf, and Chris Garrett at Vanity Fair Vanity Fair for their support-and their patience. My agent, David Black, not only got this project off the ground, but steered it in the right direction: to Alfred A. Knopf. My editor there, Jonathan Segal, was just what I wanted, and needed: discerning, demanding, meticulous. His assistant, Ida Giragossian, was helpful in innumerable ways. Maria Massey tolerated with great grace the infuriating last-minute manipulations of a lapsed newspaperman. Virginia Tan and Melissa Goldstein put together the wonderful pictures. Thanks, too, to Paul Bogaards, Carol Carson, Elizabeth Cochrane, Romeo Enriquez, Kate Norris, Amy Stackhouse, Evan Stone, and Sonny Mehta. for their support-and their patience. My agent, David Black, not only got this project off the ground, but steered it in the right direction: to Alfred A. Knopf. My editor there, Jonathan Segal, was just what I wanted, and needed: discerning, demanding, meticulous. His assistant, Ida Giragossian, was helpful in innumerable ways. Maria Massey tolerated with great grace the infuriating last-minute manipulations of a lapsed newspaperman. Virginia Tan and Melissa Goldstein put together the wonderful pictures. Thanks, too, to Paul Bogaards, Carol Carson, Elizabeth Cochrane, Romeo Enriquez, Kate Norris, Amy Stackhouse, Evan Stone, and Sonny Mehta.It's always said that newspaper work is ephemeral, but that's not so: the best of it is not lost at all, but merely waiting to be rediscovered and beheld. Reading the journalists who covered boxing, and the world, in the 1930s, and realizing the care they lavished on their work (on tight deadlines and primitive machines, to boot) was a thrilling experience for me. It was also inspiring, a reminder that words matter, and endure. A few of the best white reporters ofthat era are justly lionized, though most-Dan Parker, Richards Vidmer, Anthony Marenghi, John Lardner, Bill Cunningham, to name just a few-are almost entirely forgotten. At that, their fate has been kinder than that of black contemporaries like Al Monroe, Ed Harris, Roi Ottley, and Ralph Matthews, whose glorious work was almost entirely unread outside Afro-America. That these men and so many like them are unknown, and unsung, is a crime. Thank God for microfilm; someday, someone will do them justice.I'm grateful to Aline Gittleman for her encouragement and support as this project neared completion. Finally, I want to thank my parents, Moses and Gertrude Margolick. Whatever intelligence and empathy this book contains comes, ultimately, from them. And if, more than forty years ago, my father hadn't brought home a record called "I Can Hear It Now," in which Edward R. Murrow introduced me to Clem McCarthy's call of the second Louis-Schmeling fight, this book never would have happened at all.David Margolick New York, July 2005

NOTES.

Introduction.

"Ringside Tonight!": New York Journal-American, New York Journal-American, June 22,1938. June 22,1938.

"Wars, involving the fate of nations": New York Mirror, New York Mirror, June 22,1938. June 22,1938.

"On this day": Angriff, Angriff, June 15,1938. June 15,1938.

"The Night of the Bright Windows": Ibid., June 24,1938.

"The relative merits": Daily Worker, Daily Worker, June 22,1938. June 22,1938.

"Louis or Schmeling?": New York Sun, New York Sun, June 4,1938. June 4,1938.

"Louis represents democracy": Boston Traveler, Boston Traveler, June 22,1938. June 22,1938.

"Judges and lawyers": New York Times, New York Times, June 22,1938. June 22,1938.

"World Series scarcely": United Press International, June 20,1938.

bubbly and alive: Paris Soir, Paris Soir, June 21,1938. June 21,1938.

"If Joe loses": Amsterdam News, Amsterdam News, June 25,1938. June 25,1938.

"The first nationally-sponsored heavyweight": New York Journal-American, New York Journal-American, January 15, 1938. January 15, 1938.

"Tonight's the night": New York Post, New York Post, June 22,1938. June 22,1938.

"the public loves": New York American, New York American, May 12,1936. May 12,1936.

"Fame and money": Sterling A. Brown, "The Negro in American Culture: Sports," p. 1, in The Negro in America, The Negro in America, Schomberg Center for Research in Black Culture, New York Public Library (19381940). Schomberg Center for Research in Black Culture, New York Public Library (19381940).

"You can't Jim Crow": Lester Rodney, Detroit Metro Times, Detroit Metro Times, June 1125, 1981. June 1125, 1981.

"The ring was the only place": The Autobiography of Malcolm X, The Autobiography of Malcolm X, with Alex Haley (New York: Grove Press, 1964), p. 23. with Alex Haley (New York: Grove Press, 1964), p. 23.

"Bronx Bombers": Associated Negro Press, June 24,1936.

"a big, superbly built Negro": New York Evening Journal, New York Evening Journal, June 19,1937. June 19,1937.

"There is not one iota": Ring, Ring, May 1938. May 1938.

"Day by day, since their alleged": New Masses, New Masses, July 5,1938. July 5,1938.

"in purring limousines": New York Mirror, New York Mirror, June 23,1938. June 23,1938.

"Now let's go": This and all quotations from the American fight broadcasts in this book come from recordings in the collection of the author.

Chapter One: Just Off the Boat.

"Oh, Max!": New York Evening Post, New York Evening Post, April 15,1933. April 15,1933.

"Athletic Club": New York Daily News, New York Daily News, April 15,1933. April 15,1933.

"Hundreds of Jews": New York Evening Post, New York Evening Post, April 5,1933. April 5,1933.

"our greatest hope": Box-Sport, Box-Sport, January 6,1927. January 6,1927.

"an insufficient will": Ibid., April 12,1927.

"Kunstler, schenkt mir Eure Gunst": Max Schmeling, Max Schmeling, Erinnerungen, Erinnerungen, revised and amended edition (Frankfurt a.M. and Berlin: Ullstein, 1995), p. 87. revised and amended edition (Frankfurt a.M. and Berlin: Ullstein, 1995), p. 87.

"swimming after the dollar": Box-Sport, Box-Sport, May 22,1928. May 22,1928.

"Joe Jacobs gave 'em": Washington Post, Washington Post, May 2,1940. May 2,1940.

"If all the newspaper copy": New York Mirror, New York Mirror, June 26,1936. June 26,1936.

"It's too darned quiet": The Boxing News, The Boxing News, June 1936. June 1936.

"my little wife": New York Mirror, New York Mirror, October 7,1940. October 7,1940.

"Why do guys have to sleep at all?" Ring, Ring, July 1940. July 1940.

"a New York sidewalk boy": New York World-Telegram, New York World-Telegram, April 26,1940. April 26,1940.

"If you hang me": New York Sun, New York Sun, April 26,1940. April 26,1940.

"You take the big tree": New York World-Telegram, New York World-Telegram, June 8,1933. June 8,1933.

"triple pneumonia": Collier's, Collier's, July 1,1939. July 1,1939.

"The Black Uhlan of the Rhine": Schmeling, Erinnerungen, Erinnerungen, p. 128. Frank Graham, among others, attributed the nickname to Damon Runyon, p. 128. Frank Graham, among others, attributed the nickname to Damon Runyon, New York Journal-American, New York Journal-American, February 6,1961. February 6,1961.

"Dempsey! Dempsey!": Box-Sport, Box-Sport, January 7,1929. January 7,1929.

"all Berlin was frantic with joy": New York Times, New York Times, June 29,1929. June 29,1929.

"He is quiet, modest": New York Sun, New York Sun, June 7,1930. June 7,1930.

"an insolence": New York World-Telegram, New York World-Telegram, May 29,1941. May 29,1941.

"punch harder than": Forverts, Forverts, June 22,1930. June 22,1930.

"the fighting son of the Fatherland": New York Daily News, New York Daily News, June 13,1930. June 13,1930.

"the man on whom every American": Ibid.

"paralyzed": New York Times, New York Times, June 14,1930. June 14,1930.

"Stay down, you idiot!": Forverts, Forverts, April 27,1940. April 27,1940.

"a screaming, dancing midge": Outlook and Independent, Outlook and Independent, July 2,1930. July 2,1930.

"You're the champion, Max!" New York Mirror, New York Mirror, June 13,1930. June 13,1930.

"as though an armored truck": New York Journal-American, New York Journal-American, April 25,1940. April 25,1940.

"a severe blow": Associated Press, April 13,1930.

"From the bottom of my heart": New York Daily News, New York Daily News, June 13,1930. June 13,1930.

"If anyone won": Outlook and Independent, Outlook and Independent, July 2,1930. July 2,1930.

"You know, that Yacobs": New York Daily News, Yacobs": New York Daily News, June 14,1930. June 14,1930.

"I'm sure it helped me": Forverts, Forverts, June 22,1930. June 22,1930.

"this unpleasant, loud-mouthed": Angriff, Angriff, November 25,1930. November 25,1930.

"We're on our way": Der Abend, Der Abend, quoted in quoted in New York World, New York World, June 14,1930. June 14,1930.

"a concert of boos": Rolf Nurnberg, Die Geschichte einer Karriere Die Geschichte einer Karriere (Berlin: Grossberliner Druckerei fur Presse und Buchverlag, 1932), p. 148. (Berlin: Grossberliner Druckerei fur Presse und Buchverlag, 1932), p. 148.

"a disgrace to German": New York Times, New York Times, January 8,1931. January 8,1931.

"mean, impertinent, incompetent Jew": Angriff, Angriff, January 8,1931. January 8,1931.

"Ruthlessness was the": Nurnberg, Die Geschichte einer Karriere, Die Geschichte einer Karriere, p. 13. p. 13.

"He was robbed": New York Evening Post, New York Evening Post, June 22, 1932; "He was jobbed": June 22, 1932; "He was jobbed": New York American, New York American, June 22,1932; "We were robbed": June 22,1932; "We were robbed": New York Graphic, New York Graphic, June 22,1932. June 22,1932.

"The great Sharkey-Schmeling": New York Daily News, New York Daily News, June 23,1932. June 23,1932.

"someone closing a deal": New York World-Telegram, New York World-Telegram, June 23,1932. June 23,1932.

"German boy of the future": Hajo Bernett, Nationalsozialistische Leibeserziehung Nationalsozialistische Leibeserziehung (Schorndorf bei Stuttgart: Karl Hofmann, 1966), p. 25. (Schorndorf bei Stuttgart: Karl Hofmann, 1966), p. 25.

"There is no sport that cultivates": Adolf Hitler, Mein Kampf Mein Kampf (Munich: F. Eher Nachf., 1933), p. 453. (Munich: F. Eher Nachf., 1933), p. 453.

"a German revolution of pimps, deserters": Ibid., p. 453.

"the high cheek bones of an Indian": New York Mirror, New York Mirror, December 4,1937. December 4,1937.

"incapable of performing even a single knee-bend": Angriff, Angriff, November 6,1930. November 6,1930.

"a man from whom even his own kind turn away": Ibid., January 7,1931.

"mean," "impertinent," "incompetent" Jew: Ibid., January 8,1931.

"grubby" Jacobs; "spruced-up numbskull and toady": Ibid., January 7,1931.

"Finally, Finally!": Ibid., April 4,1933.

"Jewish capital or Jewish persons": Box-Sport, Box-Sport, April 3,1933. April 3,1933.